I have been on an INTERNATIONAL DATING SITE, seeking female FRIENDS with little confidence in finding a marriage partner. I have seen how our little Cold War has gone beyond the USA. Made contact in an at first pleasant way with a Russian woman. Little pleasantries and then she blew at me with a bunch of pro-trump crap. Byyyyyyyyye!

Then there was the Filipino in South Korea. Sounded nice until I made some disparaging remarks about trump. You know, like he’s a sonofabitch. In the chat she was laughing at me then started to ridicule me a bit and …….. BYYYYYYYE!

Today an American sent me a message of, “Hi Scott I like your smile”. I told her I practice it a lot and then … checked myself. Uh oh… “trump good or trump bad?” I asked.

“Trump good!” She replied.

“We would definitely be any kind of a match due to my being very Liberal. Happy hunting!” I said and …

BYYYYYYYYYE!

It’s a world thing, as you see.

(I am quitting that site soon and going back to the Atheist Monastery I came from)

Today I was being empathetic to someone that was “separated” and I referred to their ex as an “asshole”. They did not like my language! OH NO! The person said, “I think you have a problem”. A judgement of my mental health. A person that does not know me at all. I had been trying to help them navigate a dating website. They assumed by my colorful word of language and talkative manner there was something “WRONG” with me and said I should, “get help” NOT KNOWING A DAMNED THING ABOUT ME. I cheerfully replied that I am “creative and smart”. Due to problems as a child I grew-up on that attitude that I had “problems”. I DID see psychiatrists and DID GET HELP. I got it all my life. Others believe themselves flawless and totally sane but hide the screaming inside and are in DENIAL of it all. THEY are the one’s that need the most… HELP. We parted ways probably ways, blocking each other. Tsk tsk. It reminds me of something I was thinking about today, about how so many people want to judge us and CONTROL us in how and what we SAY.

You see I get that a lot.

From FAMILY (HELLO FAMILY READING THIS!)

I get a lot of, “OH DON’T SAY THAT!”

Or, “Don’t say that word!” Or use THAT word in THEIR house.

I recently had a girl friend who, a few years ago disliked my using the word, “FUCK”. Very common word here in the USA. Very colorful. I told her I would use it when and how I wanted to. Not for me to change for others in that respect. Now using it in a shop or other such place… nah!

WORDS HAVE ONLY THE MEANING WE GIVE THEM.

THEY HAVE ONLY THE POWER WE GIVE THEM.

Like magic spells.

Like FUCKING magic spells.

If someone calls me a “mother fucker” it has only as much power as I give it. HOW I react to it. Should I go into a rage, offended by it as an insult or…. “Meh! So what”

The peaceful way is to laugh it off.

Power removed.

Give it your best word shot.

People use WORD OUTRAGE AS A WAY TO CONTROL.

“Don’t” is a big part of that control

DO NOT.

STOP SIGN ON WORD USE!

Having realized this I see how people try to control each other. Such as in the case of religion. Oh do not say this or that it is blasphemous! Do not say shit, fuck etc etc because it is OFFENSIVE TO GOD! I think that if a god is so offended by some words and not doing shit about the horrors of the world, THAT is one fucked-up god! God can be more preoccupied being outraged and wincing about… “fuuuuuuck!” Than it is about child rape and torture. God is one fucked-up thing.

CONTROL.

Not like a GOD thinks words are bad. Since it does not exist. It is the control freak believers of gods that think some words are bad. Were it not for some words like… (ok you know them all) control freaks, religious or otherwise would have less stupid shit to try to control people with.

So now I have a very liberated attitude about those that would try to “DON’T” me to not use whatever words I want. I have a message for them about trying to control how I talk, live and think:

This morning I opened the door of a closet in my kitchen I do not use. There was a toaster oven I had avoided using for months due to a break-up. It was time to put the past to rest and use the thing. As I was pulling it out, a strange long armed creature stuck it’s arm out to grab mine. I kept carrying the oven out with the creature hanging on me. Setting the oven down, I looked at the thing that had attacked me:

A potato.

It had sprouted in the dark.

For MONTHS!

The potato had fallen behind the oven and in the dark, grew sprouts reaching for the warmth of a window beyond the closet door. Reaching for LIFE. Reaching for LIGHT.

The potato had probably been much bigger but the sprouts had used all the energy of the body. It was shrunken and the 3 sprouts that had seemed to cling to my arm were pale and purple at the same time. I remembered I had a pot of soil in my spare bedroom (storage). I cleaned some debris off it and dug into the dirt and placed the potato in the dirt, put it with my house plants near a big window and soaked it with water.

I felt a need to reward this thing with some nurturing after the months of mindless toil and desperate growth. It was no longer a “thing” to me. I realized it had been born in my imagination as a “creature” before it could be a “thing”. Potted to try to give it more life, it became a thing. If it takes the buried reach of nurturing I gave it, it will become another house plant thing. All my house plants are like harmless stupid people. They sit, mind their own business and grow or wither and die. I play god with them and the sun-god helps me.

It never ceases to amaze me how life is TRYING all the time on this planet. Rising from the most adverse even poisonous of circumstances. It reminds me of how there is a SEED of that in all of us. From our own darkness, with a spark of hope, we try to reach out and GROW and reach for life. A better life than the darkness of our own inner closets.

When I was 8 years old, I was put into a children’s psychiatric hospital as an out patient. Meaning, it was like School for me. Go in and go out. I was put into it because I was crying in school a lot. It was like a very ugly habit. I have made sense of some of it as an adult. I was an anxious kid. The short version. Other kids there were very VIOLENT. I was never beaten but did see the results of other kids being attacked. As a result of that year of my life, I endured a lot of mental illness teasing. Harassment. Ridicule for many years. I dealt with my issues with drugs and alcohol in my teens. I voluntarily sought help from psychiatrists. I read much about minds and emotion. About mental health. I still do. My identity for many years seemed to be, “mentally ill person”. Something like that.

But that changed.

I am Scott who has some problems some times and far fewer in mind NOW than ever before. I can look inside myself and SEE what is ailing me. I know my emotions and mind states. I do not deny anything about me. I am like a computer that examines itself. Runs checks on all mental systems. On my emotions.

I have come to see and understand that the sickest people in the world are not nor ever were those like me that were given help and then kept going in life and GOT MORE HELP. The sickest people are those IN DENIAL OF THEIR OWN MENTAL ILLNESSES. Those often with power over others. Those that may suspect something is sick inside themselves but have not the courage to open it up and look at it or are in denial of what sickness is THERE.

I used-to think I was weak with a label of “mentally ill” due to an anxiety disorder and being very sensitive. As I grew, I realized I was the STRONG one because I could FACE my problems. I could FACE drug and alcohol problems while others pointed the finger at those around them and lived in denial of their own sickness and flaws. I came to see that being “sensitive” was a blessing and a curse because I could feel deeply not only of myself but of Others – and that feeling others was such a blessing. A GIFT at times.

I had a big strong older brother that would ridicule me for how I was, so weak to him and his friends. So weird! I learned who the truly SICK person was when my mother lay dying and much of the family wept around her except for… my big strong older brother who could not cry or let himself cry. I felt for him. Having had much practice all my life, I wanted to reach inside him and show him how to weep. To immerse yourself in grief and as the tears flowed… let go.

I dropped the label of being “crazy” long ago. Now when someone calls me that I embrace it, laugh about it and jokingly seriously correct them: “I am not crazy. I am creatively ECCENTRIC!”.

I look at the insanity in the houses of power in the USA and world. At how some have few qualms about killing masses of humans and other life forms and think… “Now THOSE are some CRAZY SICK BASTARDS”. I look at the insanity of the president of the USA. Of how many psychiatrists have talked about how clinically insane he is and I think….

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